The sky throbbed, dull red and achy. Sidelong glances were all anyone could stand. The air seemed full of self-loathing, as if the atmosphere hated itself for what it had become.
San Francisco had been trapped under this blood-coloured force field for a week now, cut off from the rest of the world. There were no transmissions in or out, certainly no vehicles or people, and now it was becoming clear that even the air wasn’t getting much exchange with the outside world.
All of the major Bay Area superheroes — those in the area when the red dome formed — had tried to penetrate or pass through the field. Presumably, there were even more heroes on the outside, trying to find a way in. At least, that’s what most San Franciscans were hoping. The City by the Bay was a pretty big place, after all.
Jimmy had his own problems. The heaviness of the air was aggravating his asthma, and now he spent most of each day in the filtered zone he’d built in his room. The plastic sheeting was ugly, and filtered his view through the window to an indeterminate haze, but at least it didn’t hurt to breathe when he was in there. Besides, with the red glow replacing sunlight, and the air getting hazier, the view wasn’t much of anything anyway.